


One After the Other

by ItIsWhatItIs9194, Teddy1008



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Anal Fingering, Be Warned: Louis is a Psycho, Blowjobs, Bondage, Crying Harry, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degradation, Dehumanization, Face Slapping, Innocent Harry, Kidnapping, M/M, Older Louis, Older Zayn, Psycho Louis, Psychological Torture, Rope Bondage, Sad Harry, Sexual Assault, Student Harry, Teacher Louis, Teacher Zayn, Threats, Younger Harry, Zayn is in the story for like five seconds lol, face fucking, non-con elements, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItIsWhatItIs9194/pseuds/ItIsWhatItIs9194, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy1008/pseuds/Teddy1008
Summary: Harry knew psychological torture greatly pleased his captor. He’d experienced it firsthand.Or, the one where Louis abducts Harry to feed his darkest desires.





	One After the Other

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people! We are back with a new one shot! 
> 
> This one shot is INCREDIBLY dark, so PLEASE read the tags before you proceed! We cannot stress that enough. Any rude comments about this fic will be ignored and promptly deleted. If this kind of fic is not your thing, then please do not read. 
> 
> Nevertheless, if it is your thing, please enjoy! <3

Every day spent at his captor’s house was different. Sometimes his captor would leave the house for awhile and then return drunk; other times his captor would stay at home all day and keep Harry ‘company,’ as he called it. 

But one thing always stayed the same. There was not a day that passed by where Harry wasn't afraid. A lot of things frightened him (like failing a test or having a spider crawl on him), but he couldn't imagine a situation anymore frightening than the one he unfortunately found himself in. 

The worst time of day, he decided, was when his captor would play with him. He did this a lot, but there was one type of ‘play’ that scared him the most. 

It happened at different times each day, but they all usually went relatively the same way. Harry was kept naked 24/7 in order to grant easy access to his most special places, as his captor had told him. During the worst type of play, sometimes his captor would pull out his professional camera and take pictures of him. He always wondered what they were for, but he decided it'd be better if he didn't know. 

There was that, plus the extreme, underlying fear of getting assaulted in the way everybody feared. He was assaulted daily, but the worst of the worst was yet to happen. His captor enjoyed threatening him with it constantly, even going as far as to prepare to fuck him but then not follow through. 

Harry knew psychological torture greatly pleased his captor. He’d experienced it firsthand. 

He remembered when his captor had taken him. Harry had been terrified he was going to be killed that night, and he found himself feeling amused as he wished he had been. It'd be much better to be dead than where he was now. 

He'd seen his captor before — he  _ knew  _ he had — but he couldn't remember where. His facial features were very distinctive and easy to remember; he didn't look like anybody else. Harry had sobbed when he finally remembered where he'd first seen his captor, feeling utterly betrayed. He was the last person he ever expected to hurt him. 

His captor had been rough, too, pulling his arms behind his back and tying them together while Harry cried, telling him to shut up all the while. He was much stronger than Harry, able to pick him up and move him where he wanted. He immediately discarded Harry’s clothes as well, and the boy had yet to see them since. 

The night he was taken, he'd stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom, returning to Cheshire from visiting his friend’s house in Wolverhampton. He'd only intended to quickly use the washroom and then leave, as it was nearing 11 o’clock at night and his mum would be getting worried. On his way out, though, a man asked for his help carrying his bags to his car. The gas station didn't provide carts, obviously, and Harry was too nice to say no, even though he was exhausted and just wanted to get home. 

Oh, if only he’d known that he was making the worst mistake of his life …

Harry had picked up the bags that the man had been having trouble with and carried them to the car. The man had thanked him when Harry handed him one of the bags, voice soft and silky. As the man placed the bags in his trunk, Harry had snuck a glance inside the one in his left hand and saw, to his surprise … condoms? 

Shivers ran up his spine and the hair on his skin stood up, heart rate suddenly picking up. Alarmed by what he’d seen inside the bag, he’d jumped when the man had reached out to take the last bag from him.

Harry had backed up as soon as the bag left his hands, terrified. He just wanted to get home. “Um, I hope you have a good night,” he said politely, giving the man a small wave before he made to head back to his car. 

As he turned to walk away, a hand wrapped around his wrist and tugged forcefully, making Harry jump and turn back around. “Um, do you need something else?” he asked nervously, looking around. No one else was in sight except for the cashier in the station, who was asleep against the register. 

_ Everything is fine _ , he told himself.  _ You're just being paranoid.  _

“I'm going to need some help emptying this bag,” the man said emotionlessly, gesturing to the one Harry had been frightened by. “I can't use them myself, you know.” He winked. 

Harry immediately paled, trying to wiggle his wrist out of the man’s tight grip. “I'm sorry but I'm not interested,” he tried to tell him nicely, wanting to go home even more now. “I need to go home now, have a good night.”

But the man’s grip on his wrist was too tight, and Harry found himself stuck. He started hyperventilating when he realized that he most definitely had found himself in the worst possible situation yet. 

“Please, I need to go,” he told the man, trying not to let tears build in his eyes. He couldn't cry in front of this man — that'd make him look like an even easier target. 

Suddenly, the man pulled him against his chest, Harry's back against the man. “I don't believe that’ll be happening anytime soon, sweetheart,” the man murmured in his ear. “You're going to keep me some company for awhile. How does that sound, hmm?”

“No!” Harry cried, finally letting his tears formulate. “Let me go!” He wiggled in the man’s grip, but his wrists were forced behind his back and tied together against his will. 

“Quiet!” the man hissed, tugging him by his wrists to the back seat of his car. “You're going to be a good little boy and get in the car silently, you understand? I won't hesitate to kill you if you scream. Got that?”

Harry nodded frantically, although tears still gushed out of his eyes at a fast pace. The man had thrown him in the backseat of his car, where he proceeded to immediately cut off all his clothing and call him humiliating names as he did so. Harry hasn't had the same amount of dignity and rights that he used to since that night. 

He was jerked out of his thoughts when the door was flung open and that very same man — the man who had stripped him of all dignity and pride — strode in with an infuriating smirk on his lips. Harry shut his eyes and inhaled sharply, preparing himself for whatever was going to happen next. He clenched his hands into fists, feeling the rope wrapped around his wrists rub against his skin.

He heard the footsteps of his captor gradually slow, until they stopped. Then, not breathing, Harry waited. And waited. And waited. He whimpered when he felt the cool air brush and kiss his naked skin, feeling the scrutinizing gaze of the man burning into him. It was when he was practically trembling to resist the temptation of screaming,  _ what do you want?! _ when the man finally spoke.

“You look absolutely gorgeous with how vulnerable you are.”

His voice was a little above a whisper, making goosebumps appear on Harry’s skin. He pressed his lips together to prevent a whimper from escaping. 

“You know that, don’t you?”

The footsteps began to approach again, until Harry was sure that the man was leaning over him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

“Open your pretty eyes, slut.”

Harry waited a beat longer than necessary before doing as told, eyes opening to meet bright blue eyes that were staring down at him.

“There we go.” The smirk grew wider.

Harry let out a little gasp and shuddered when he felt a hand suddenly graze his balls, and then his cock. His hips stuttered up when the hand teasingly stroked up and down, five times, before it was gone. Gritting his teeth together, Harry glared up at the man.

“You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” the man crooned patronizingly. “It’s okay. I’ll give you what you need.”

“N–No,” Harry growled, voice cracking when he felt his eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. “I don’t need or want it.”

“Oh, darling,” the man practically purred. “We both know you want it.”

Harry turned his head to the side, a small, quiet sob escaping through his cracked lips. 

The man chuckled. “You know, I just love your tears.” He reached out and wiped away a tear with his thumb, making Harry flinch violently. “They’re a sign; a symbol of hopelessness. I think we both know that.” When Harry shook his head hard from side to side, denying it, the man’s smirk grew. “No? Oh, I get it. You want something to distract you, don’t you? Because you do know it. It’s as clear as crystal.” He pulled back with a chuckle. “Lucky for you, I’m a merciful man. Which is why I’ll help you pretend it’s not true.”

Harry gasped when fingers brushed his hole and he involuntarily clenched. He cringed when the man spat on his hole, making him feel dirtied. A finger circled his rim and a hand wrapped around his cock, thumbing the head teasingly.

“No,” Harry sobbed. “Stop. Please.”

“Shhhh,” the man hushed. “It’s okay. I’m just helping you.”

A feeling of shame washed over his entire being when Harry realized the man was right. He’d forgotten about the tears that were leaking down his cheeks.

Harry wanted to yell at the man and scream that  _ no, he was not helping him!  _ but he knew it was better to be silent. Nothing good ever came out of his protests — his captor either made fun of him or hurt him further. 

“Out of all the boys I've taken, you have the prettiest little cocklet,” Harry's captor murmured, his thumb brushing across the slit of Harry’s cock. “It's just so beautiful and tiny.”

Those types of comments always frightened Harry the most: the ones about the other boys. His captor never went into detail, but he often referenced other boys he'd captured. Harry didn't know if he was telling the truth or just fucking with his head, knowing his captor got off on psychological torture. But either way, it was extremely terrifying, and he wondered what his captor did with the other boys if they were actually real. 

“Stop,” Harry whimpered quietly, his bottom lip wobbling. He hated crying in front of his captor, because he knew the man took pleasure in his tears. But it was nearly impossible to stop them, considering how miserable he was. “Please, stop. I don't want it.”

The man stuck out his bottom lip condescendingly. “Poor baby,” he crooned, taking his hand off Harry's cock with a little brush of his fingers. He moved to the side of Harry's bed, where the boy knew he kept all his essentials, including things to make Harry's life even worse. 

Harry always grew even more terrified when his captor searched through his stash of tools, not knowing what was going to happen next. 

That was one of the worst parts of being the victim: being completely unaware of everything. His captor could do anything to him at any moment because he had him completely subdued, and that fact was terribly frightening. 

“I think today is finally going to be the day,” his captor narrated, rummaging through a drawer, “that I fuck you. I know I say this all the time, but I'm just really feeling it right now.”

At those words, Harry shook his head frantically, tears coming out of his eyes even faster. This was the one thing he didn't think he could bear. If his captor violated him like that, he wasn't sure how he would make it through with his life. He already wanted to be dead. 

“No? You don't want to be fucked?” the man asked patronizingly, smoothing a hand over Harry's curls gently. 

Harry shook his head again, his chest rising and falling as he took in shaky breaths. “N–No!” he cried, trying to shake the man’s hand off his head. “Don't!”

The man chuckled and started undoing his belt, then pulled off his trousers and pants. He came around to the front of Harry's bed and ran a finger along Harry's hole, rubbing the outside of it teasingly. 

“No,” Harry whimpered. “Don’t. Stop. Stop!” He tugged on the ropes that were bound around his ankles and wrists desperately. Heart thrumming rapidly in fear, Harry squirmed on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Awww, darling,” the man cooed. “Don’t close your eyes. You know how much I  _ love  _ seeing emotions in those beautiful green eyes of yours.” He ran a finger on Harry’s jawline tauntingly. “Open them, baby. Or do I need to teach you a lesson?”

Whimpering, Harry opened his eyes, the fear of being ‘taught a lesson’ worse than getting fucked — after all, if he disobeyed, he would probably be punished  _ and then _ fucked.

“There we go.” The man smirked sadistically. “Now. Let’s see.” He purposefully let his eyes roam over Harry’s naked, trembling form. Then he let out a small sound of satisfaction. “Good. Just how I want you — shaking in fear and ready to be fucked.”

Harry let out a small moan of fear and denial. He didn't want to be fucked. He just couldn’t be. It would destroy his life if he was fucked by his captor. He realized he was practically vibrating in fear and tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

“Aww, cute.” The man trailed a few fingers down Harry’s naked body and down to his hole again, where he rubbed it with two fingers. “I can tell you’re gonna be so tight,” the man told him, eyes dark with lust. “The prettiest little cock and the tightest hole of all the boys I’ve had.”

“Noooo,” Harry moaned, wanting to cry. This wasn’t actually happening, was it? He wished it was just a horrible nightmare that he was having, that he could wake up from soon. But he knew it wasn’t just a bad dream. It was real and he wasn’t ever going to be able to avoid it. He jerked when the man leaned down and spat on his hole, making Harry whimper. God, he felt disgusting.

The man got up and ripped open the wrapper of a condom, pulling it out and stroking his already hard cock a few times before rolling it on. “Ready, bitch? Oh, wait.” He laughed, seeing the petrified look on Harry’s face. “You’re never going to be ready for it, are you? It’s okay, darling.” He stepped closer to Harry. “You don’t get a choice anyway.”

Before Harry could say anything, he felt his captor’s dick nudging against his lips. “Open, bitch,” he commanded, swiping it along his lips. 

Harry cringed, hating being called such degrading names, but hating what was about to happen to him even more. Not wanting to risk getting hurt further, he complied, slowly opening his mouth and accepting his captor’s dick on his tongue. This wasn't the first time he'd made him suck him off, but he had never done so when the man had a condom on. The plastic tasted disgusting (though a bit more bearable than his captor’s cock) and triggered his gag reflex more than usual. 

“That's it, bitch,” the man murmured, guiding his cock inside Harry's mouth inch by inch. “Such pretty lips. They look so gorgeous wrapped around my cock — just where they're destined to be.”

The feeling of Harry's lips enveloping his cock caused him to moan as he reached a hand out and grasped a handful of the boy’s curls. He tugged on them, forcing his dick further down Harry's throat, causing him to splutter and gag. 

Smiling, the man pulled Harry off his dick and slapped his face with it, then forced him right back down onto his cock. Harry's captor never allowed him to simply suck his cock; his face was always fucked and he gagged severely. He didn't see the fun in just receiving a simple blowjob.

Harry was also expected to swallow all of his captor’s come, though that wouldn't be necessary this time. 

“Open your eyes, whore,” the man snapped, slapping Harry's cheek as he fucked his mouth. “I want to see those tears.”

The boy obeyed, opening his eyes and staring up at his captor. He let out an obscene squelching noise as the man continuously fucked his mouth, unable to breathe properly. 

“Such a good boy,” the man murmured, then pulled out of Harry's mouth aggressively. He promptly slapped his victim’s face with his dick again, chuckling as he watched the young boy desperately gasp for breath. “Did you have fun? I know how much you like having your face fucked.”

“N–No,” Harry whimpered, coughing. His face was covered in spit, tears, and sweat, and he felt dirty and used. “Don't.”

“Aww,” the man cooed, stroking Harry's cheek before he gave him another slap. “Such a shame. Hopefully you'll like getting fucked in your hole better, then.”

Harry cried, shaking his head as his captor spat on his hole once again and lined himself up at his entrance. “Don’t!” he sobbed, even though he knew it wouldn’t work. His captor didn’t listen to anything he said; he did as he pleased. “Please, don’t!”

“Shhh,” the man hushed. “Shhh, it’s okay.”

_ It’s not!  _ Harry wanted to scream.  _ It’s not okay! You’re ruining my life!  _ He jerked when he felt the tip of his captor’s cock just barely graze his hole. He turned his head, letting out another sob. “You can’t,” he sobbed.

“I can,” the man responded simply, lightly pressing the head of his cock at Harry’s hole, but not entering. Yet. “Do you know why?” He didn’t bother waiting for Harry to answer his question. “Because you’re all tied up, helpless. I can do whatever I want to you. Every. Single. Day.” 

_ He's not going to do anything; he's threatened rape a million times. It's okay. Stop crying. Try to be calm.  _

Despite Harry's reassuring words he played over in his mind, he still let out a small squeal when he felt the tip of his captor’s cock enter him. He never used lube, only spit, and it always hurt. 

“Aww, sweetheart,” the man cooed. “It can't be hurting  _ that  _ badly, can it?” 

Harry nodded, sniffling loudly. “Hurts,” he whined, beginning to sob again. “Stop.”

The man sighed, pulling out, making Harry sigh in relief. “I just love how petrified my threats make you,” he said darkly, peeling the condom off and tossing it in the trash. “It's so much fun when you cry.”

Harry let out a quiet sob, craning his neck a little to see his captor bustling around the room, wondering what was about to happen next. It seemed like it was one of those days where the man wanted to spend every minute left of the day fucking with him. Lovely.

He jumped when he felt the man working on the ropes, heart beating faster in fear. “W–What are you doing?” he whispered, voice rough and ragged from the begging and weeping.

“Don’t ask questions.” The man stared at him threateningly and Harry quickly lowered his eyes, snapping his mouth shut. His captor continued to work on the ropes bound around his wrists and ankles. Or rather … he was  _ untying  _ the ropes? Well, this was new. And good — maybe if the man was planning to let him stay untied even for a little while, he could think of some way to escape or get help … 

But when the man turned him around and tied those ropes around his wrists at the small of his back, he knew he had been getting his hopes too high. He was restrained yet again. He wanted to scream his frustration, but he clamped his lips tightly to prevent himself from doing so and getting into any further trouble.

“You’re coming with me,” the man told him, sharply tugging the ropes around Harry’s wrists as an indication that he wanted Harry to get off of the bed. “Upstairs.”

Harry’s head was spinning in confusion. Upstairs? Usually, he was just kept downstairs, tied up on the bed, except for three times a day when he’d be allowed to go to the loo to relieve himself. Even then, he was constantly under the man’s careful watch. He felt the man shove him roughly from behind, still holding tightly onto Harry’s tied wrists.

“And don’t you dare try to run away. You don’t want to know what’ll happen if you do.” The man’s tone was ominous.

Harry shivered at that thought, not even able to imagine what would happen if he ran away. It was obvious he'd be punished severely, but the boy couldn't even imagine his life getting any worse. It felt like it was the worst it could ever be. 

Walking felt funny, considering he hadn't done so in a few hours. His legs were a bit wobbly and felt slightly weak, and he was sure they had lost some muscle since he was mostly lying down all day. His captor shoving him from behind didn't help much, either. 

“Upstairs, bitch,” he snarled, keeping a rough hand on Harry's back. “Faster.” 

Harry stumbled up the steps, doing his best not to fall. His captor was much stronger than he was, and older, so he definitely had an advantage. The stairs were steep, too, sure to hurt if he fell. 

His captor hadn't taken him upstairs often, only for certain circumstances. The main floor was much nicer than the basement — furnished with expensive pieces and decor. The kitchen and dining room were right in front of the basement door, and his captor led him there immediately. 

“On the floor,” he ordered, snapping his fingers and pointing to the hardwood floor. “Kneel.”

Harry dropped to his knees with a  _ thud _ , feeling unbalanced with his hands behind his back. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, sure to bruise his knees if he kneeled on it for long. 

“I don't want to hear a word out of you,” his captor narrated, slapping his cheek. “I have a guest coming over, and you're to make a good impression. No disobeying me, no backtalk, no whining. If he wishes to touch you or play with you, you are to let him. There will be no fuss out of you. Understand me, whore?”

Harry nodded, fidgeting on his knees. They already hurt. “Yes, Sir,” he said quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. He always did that when he was frightened (which was almost all the time now). It helped him block out the things he feared, even if they didn't disappear. 

“Good boy,” his captor murmured patronizingly, stroking his curls. “God, he's going to love you.”

_ Who's going to love me?  _ Harry wanted to ask, but he knew better of it. He could hear footsteps walking away, telling him his captor was headed presumably towards the front door. He held his breath, hating not knowing anything about what was going to happen. 

“Louis!” a voice called out, sounding excited. “Long time no see!”

_ Louis.  _ His captor’s name made him shiver. 

“Zayn! How are you, mate?” He heard his captor exclaim. It was odd hearing his captor sound like a normal person — one who had mates and asked them over to his flat. It didn't fit who he really was at all. “Come in, lad!”

Harry stiffened from where he was kneeling when he heard footsteps nearing his location. Holding his breath, he kept his eyes down, not sure if he even wanted to look up. Unfortunately, it seemed like he didn’t have a choice because his captor — Louis — said, “Look up, bitch.”

Biting his lips, Harry forced himself to raise his eyes upwards. The man standing next to his captor had a nicely chiseled face, dark hair, long eyelashes, and some stubble going on on his face. He gasped when he realized he’d also seen him before, just like his captor. Before he could stop himself, he whispered, “No,” feeling his eyes stinging with unshed tears.

He regretted it instantly when he saw his captor’s face darken at the word he’d spoken. He was supposed to make a good impression, or god knew what would happen to him. Thankfully, before the man could say anything, his friend spoke first.

“He’s so pretty,” he commented, reaching out and gripping Harry’s chin with two fingers. “You must have fun with him.”

“I really do,” Louis chuckled. “I knew I wanted him the moment we saw him walking past our offices every Wednesday.”

Harry stared up at the two men, body going numb when he remembered where he’d seen Zayn before. He had often caught glimpses of the dark-haired man when he was walking the halls of his uni, but had never talked to him before. It seemed like they were going to do more than just talk now.

“Reckon I could have him suck my cock?” Zayn smirked down at Harry as he directed his question at Louis, rubbing his thumb along Harry’s chin patronizingly. 

Tears filled up in Harry’s eyes. He felt stupid for crying; he knew he was about to be assaulted again. But he just couldn’t help it. He would never get used to being violated like that. 

Louis laughed. “Of course, mate. Why would you think you had to ask?” he chuckled, then turned towards Harry. “Stop crying, bitch. You should be used to this by now,” he reprimanded, slapping Harry’s cheek. 

The boy turned his head with the force of the slap, squeezing his eyes shut.  _ It’s okay,  _ he coached himself.  _ You’ll get through this. It’s okay.  _

“Listen to Zayn, slut. Just let him fuck your face like you’re made to do, it’s what you’re useful for,” Louis said to Harry, yanking the boy’s hair back and spitting in his face. 

And Harry did. It wasn’t like he had any other choice anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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> 
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